Neither Kabannen nor Lucianos answered. Weapons still levelled, they backed out the door. And then they were gone.
Karras and Rauth both broke into a run at the same time, determined to chase them down.
At that moment, there came the double crack of two small explosions in close proximity. Glass shattered. Alien screeching filled the air.
Up ahead, between himself and the doorway through which his targets had just vanished, Karras saw a taloned hand grasp for a metal railing. Another reached up. Then another. A large, powerful body hauled itself from the holding pen, jaws dripping with noxious saliva. Its violet eyes locked onto Karras. It loosed a chilling scream into the air.
Rauth’s bolter coughed once.
The genestealer’s head snapped backwards. It tumbled back into the holding tank. Others spilled up and out, climbing frantically, ravenously.
Karras opened fire, bolts ripping into alien bodies and exploding inside, bursting them apart. Every bolt struck its mark, but the ’stealers were fast and there were many.
‘Like old times,’ said Karras, half to himself, as the slaughter intensified. It was something Ghost would probably say.
But it wasn’t just like old times. Because this time, his true power was cut off from him. Arquemann, the great force sword on his back, was still silent. No call for artful slaughter itched at the edge of Karras’ mind. With the Geller field interfering, the relic sword could not communicate with its owner, could not channel his power through the psy-resonating crystal matrix in its blade.
The Geller field generator was still close enough to be a problem, but there might be enough time. Epsilon wasn’t out of range quite yet. Karras and Rauth could still turn this around.
‘Forward, brother!’ Karras yelled. ‘We break through!’
They ran. A score of slashing talons reached for them, raking their pauldons as they went, but their bolters continued to bark and the tyranids could not stop them.
As they passed through the doorway, Rauth slapped a demolition charge on the wall and kept running.
They emerged into a wide, well-lit loading area. Up ahead, Epsilon, Kabannen, Lucianos and a cadre of fire warriors were boarding some kind of hovering train carriage. Karras saw a t’au with the marking of a supreme commander glance his way, bark orders to the blue-skin soldiers and disappear into the passenger carriage.
Coldwave!
There was only one passenger car. All the others were for freight, each loaded with bulky cargo covered by sheets.
The fire warriors on the platform formed a firing line and began taking shots at Karras and Rauth.
Behind the two Space Marines, determined tyranids began to spill from the doorway. Rauth had been waiting for that. He squeezed the detonator in his left hand. There was a deafening crack and a blast of heat. Tyranid bodies were ripped apart with vicious, pulverising force.
The doorway collapsed, along with much of the wall, bringing large chunks of ceiling down with it.
‘Satisfying,’ said Rauth as he turned to concentrate on the t’au. ‘But we’ve one less exit.’
Karras dropped to an armoured knee and began picking off fire warriors with his bolter. ‘Never mind. We weren’t leaving that way anyway!’
The t’au mag-train began to hum noisily, rising a metre higher in the air. It moved off, picking up speed quickly, disappearing into a tunnel leading north-east.
‘Damn it!’ spat Karras.
He and Rauth downed the last of the fire warriors. The loading terminal fell silent. Smoke wisped from bolter muzzles and the broken bodies of the xenos they had slain.
‘What now, Scholar?’ demanded Rauth. ‘Our mission objective just got away.’
‘We’ve got more immediate problems,’ said Karras. ‘Start running!’
He broke into a sprint. At the edge of the platform, he leapt down onto the mag-tracks and began racing along them in the same direction Epsilon had gone.
‘What do you mean, more immediate problems?’ demanded Rauth as he paced Karras, bolter slung over right pauldron, feet pounding the flat metallic track.
Karras felt his power returning to him. At first just an itch, just a tiny trickle, but quickly more, and more, until it was back with all the force it had ever had. He could feel Arquemann again, could sense the sword’s soul reconnecting with his.
‘Run for all you’re worth,’ Karras gasped as he put on an added burst of speed.
He knew what the retreat of the Geller field meant. The t’au could never afford to risk purestrain genestealers calling out to the tyranid hive-mind. That would draw the hive-fleet down on Tychonis. Everything here would die.
The removal of the Geller field generator from the Tower while there were still tyranid life forms present spoke of Coldwave’s intent in plain terms.
I hope the others get away in time, thought Karras.
At that moment, the ground shuddered so violently that he and Rauth were thrown from their feet.
Karras landed hard, the speed of his sprint carrying him forward half a dozen metres on his side.
He pushed himself to his hands and looked back the way they had come.
A bright light appeared. Blinding. Soundless. All-consuming. Pieces of rock riding the forward wave of the blast struck his armour like a hard rain.
With all the haste he could manage, he wrenched open his inner gates and called forth the dangerous power of the immaterium.
Rauth had risen to his knees just to Karras’ right. He faced the racing wall of fire and rock as it bore down on them both.
‘Ah,’ he muttered.
It was said so calmly.
Karras didn’t hear it. All he could hear was the cruel laughter of a thousand voices.
The power he desperately needed in order to save them had a terrible price. How high would it be this time?
He was about to find out.
Thirty-six
Morant’s vox-bead crackled. Without any explanation, he was suddenly hearing comms chatter from the rest of Arcturus. He had no idea it was down to the removal of the Geller field generator. The moment he realised he had comms again, he voxed Archangel directly.
He was sprinting along the corridor to the vator in which he and the Space Marines had come, but he slowed momentarily so he could be understood. His arm throbbed wickedly. He spoke through gritted teeth as he explained to Copley what had transpired here in the sub-levels.
Copley kept her response short, then addressed Arcturus over the main tactical channel. ‘Everyone will converge in the courtyard for extraction. And I mean now! Ground team, I want that courtyard secured for dust-off.’
Each of the separate assault elements confirmed their orders.
As Morant continued his race against time, he came upon the Space Marines of Sabre Squad ripping apart room after room as they headed towards the vator Rauth had told them about.
When Morant skidded to a halt, they rounded on him, eyeing him suspiciously. The largest by far in both height and frame stormed over to him and blocked his way.
‘Who are you?’ he thundered.
‘Sergeant Morant, my lord, of Task Force Arcturus, Ordo Xenos. I’m with the Space Marine who freed you.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He has gone deeper into the facility, my lord. I was ordered to evacuate with all haste.’
‘I am Androcles of the Sons of Antaeus,’ said the giant. ‘Deathwatch. Callsign Sabre Four. We cannot find our weapons, Morant, nor our armour.’
The Elysian gulped and glanced at the others. All so massive. All so grim. The scars, the tattoos, the broad, impassive faces and hard eyes. One had all-black eyes like the Raven Guard of Talon, but his teeth were like triangular razors. He was almost as terrifying as the tyranids Morant had just witnessed in the holding tanks.
Others, like Androcles, looke
d more noble, more like Karras, more like the glorious illustrations in Imperial storybooks.
‘My lords,’ said Morant with a look of regret, ‘would that we had time. Talon Alpha believes the t’au are about to destroy this entire base. We must evacuate now, while we still can.’
One of the others spat a curse. ‘We cannot leave our wargear!’
Androcles looked down at Morant. He could see that the Elysian was flush with adrenaline and desperately wanted to get away. The threat seemed real.
‘Brothers,’ said the giant, his tone so deep it shook the air, ‘we honour and treasure our weapons, our armour… but that we live to fight for the Emperor is the priority. I believe the t’au will destroy this place. There is no time. We go!’
The black-eyed, sharp-toothed one muttered something in a tribal tongue.
‘Sergeant Morant,’ said Androcles. ‘All we know of this place is the cell where we were held. Lead us out of here so we can live to take our revenge on the xenos.’
‘M’lords,’ said Morant. ‘This way!’
A vator ride later, they were on ground level, charging through corridors Karras and Rauth had filled with t’au dead. They passed the corpse of Carland. Morant glanced at it with a twinge of sorrow, but there was no time for anything else. At any moment, the t’au would turn this whole prison into a giant crater.
They had to get away.
Copley and her squad were clambering into the hatches of Reaper Two when Morant bolted from cover with the remnants of Sabre Squad in tow.
Solarion was still aboard. He hadn’t left his sniping position since the assault began. He looked over his shoulder and nodded at Copley as she entered the hold, then noticed the five unfamiliar, unarmoured Space Marines behind her.
By their tattoos, he quickly counted three as being from Ultramarine successor Chapters – the Howling Griffons, the Marines Errant… and the massive one with the slightly sleepy look on his face? He was from the Sons of Antaeus.
The Sons were not well honoured on Macragge. Something had gone wrong in their creation process. They were a product of the so-called Cursed Founding.
No matter. Surely all three would show him due respect as progenitor. He could see them noting the proud Ultramarines icon on his right pauldron.
He did not acknowledge them, however. Instead, he returned swiftly to his search for fresh targets, for any t’au determined to interfere with the extraction.
There would be time for introductions later.
As he scanned the buildings and the shadows, he heard Copley shouting orders to her people.
Archangel.
Despite his anger at the initial insult of Sigma putting a woman in charge of Space Marines, the major had proven adequate to her task. Karras and Rauth were still down there, in the bowels of the facility, facing Throne knew what, but such was their duty. Task Force Arcturus had got them in, had given them the shot they needed. Now, time was up.
Reaper Two was almost fully loaded. Reaper Three swung in to land and start picking up more of the Arcturus survivors. Reaper One circled in the air above, continuing to provide deadly fire support to those on the ground as they whittled away at the last of the t’au forces.
Copley had no idea how much time she had left. She trusted Karras’ message, relayed through Morant. It made sense. If there were tyranids here, especially ’stealers, and the t’au were being forced to pull out by the task force assault, t’au command – meaning Coldwave – would want to make sure no loose ends were left. A single stealer loosed into the wild would eventually infect the populace. At a certain tipping point, the genestealer infestation would be so widespread that the psychic call to the hive-fleets would bring inescapable doom to this world. And from here, it wasn’t so far to the next t’au world, and the next after that.
She knew Karras was right. Coldwave was about to purge this whole area. How long did they have? Seconds? Minutes?
Where are you, Karras? How will you get out? Or do you no longer expect to?
That thought stung her. She had come to respect, even like, the red-eyed albino. He was a lot easier to deal with than most of those he commanded, with the exception, perhaps, of the easy-going Imperial Fist.
Don’t die, Death Spectre. I don’t know how you’ll get away. But don’t die.
Reaper Two was ready to take off.
Copley yelled over the vox. The rest of her operators started falling back from their firing positions towards the black belly of Reaper Three.
‘Brother Chyron,’ she added. ‘Move to Reaper Three and prepare for magna-grapple attachment.’
The Dreadnought answered over the whine and roar of his assault cannon. His ammo was almost out, having been spent chewing t’au cover to pieces then chewing apart the bodies which had been sheltering behind it. ‘There are xenos yet breathing, woman! The slaughter is not yet done!’
‘Talon Six, comply with your orders now!’
‘It’s time to go, scrapheap,’ laughed Zeed over the vox. ‘Here, I brought a present for you.’
Looking out of the rear of Reaper Two, Copley saw the Raven Guard appear from between two barracks and casually toss something at Chyron. It was smooth and metallic. It clanged against the Dreadnought’s armoured chassis.
Chyron shuffled backwards and angled his visor down to look at it. ‘The head of the last XV8. A curse on you, Raven Guard. That honour was to be mine.’
Zeed was making for Reaper Three, ignoring the t’au fire that still hissed in the air about him as if it were nothing at all. His confidence struck Copley as bordering on madness. Had he been a normal man… But, of course, he was not. How great it must be, she thought, to have such power, such strength. Even for just a moment, she’d have liked to know what it felt like.
‘Stick to what you’re good at, Old One,’ laughed Zeed. ‘You’re too slow for some foes. Leave the fast ones to me.’
Chyron growled menacingly.
‘Stop your grumbling. Your kill count is high enough. As the lady says, it’s time to leave. Get yourself secured to the Stormraven if you don’t want to walk all the way back.’
Zeed waited at the rear of the Stormraven. After a moment spent wrestling with his desire to continue killing, Chyron broke away from the last vestiges of t’au resistance and stomped angrily over to the back of the craft. The Raven Guard and two of Copley’s people connected him to the grapples. The winches turned, groaning at his weight as they lifted him from his feet.
With Chyron suspended from the rear, Reaper Three was by far the heaviest and slowest of the three gunships. Copley ordered it up while the others were still loading.
Voss and the remains of his support squad – two had been lost in the firefight – were the last to mount up. The rear hatch of Reaper One was still closing behind them when the Stormraven lifted into the air to join the others.
‘Are Scholar and Watcher still out of contact?’ Voss asked over the vox.
‘They’re on their own,’ said Copley.
With all three Stormravens in the air, the bedraggled remains of the t’au force on the ground moved forward and fired up. Their shots smacked harmlessly off black-armoured hulls and wings as the gunships turned east and engaged their jets. Soon, they were out of range.
A wind blew into the courtyard, stirring the smoke, tugging at the clothing of the dead.
The t’au left alive moved among their fallen, finding friends there. Brothers. Some cried out. Tears ran down blue-grey cheeks.
Aboard Reaper One, Voss was still brooding over the need to leave without Karras and Rauth.
‘Listen, there’s nothing we can do for them,’ said Copley sullenly.
‘Why worry, tree stump?’ voxed Zeed. ‘You said it yourself before – Karras is a hard bastard to kill.’
Pure bravado. Zeed was as worried as Voss. He just refused to show it.
‘Hard to kill, maybe, but he’s not invincible,’ Solarion muttered back.
The Stormravens put on more speed, accelerating away from Alel a Tarag as fast as their turbine engines would allow. The roar of their passage echoed off the canyon walls, filling it.
The sun was up and glaring in the eastern sky. The sky was blue.
Copley watched the prison walls shrink into the distance on one of the monitors linked to Reaper Two’s rear picter. Dark smoke poured up from inside the compound and was dragged south on a light wind.
Suddenly, the monitor crackled with bands of static. She saw a sphere of blinding white light engulf the facility.
‘Brace!’ she shouted over the vox. ‘All hands, brace!’
There was a strange moment of stillness, then a vast, towering cloud rose into the sky in the shape of a great mushroom. On the ground, a raging wall of fire and dirt came racing along the canyon towards them.
One of the Sabre Squad Space Marines was at her side, watching over her shoulder. He was pale, like Karras, but lacked the red eyes.
‘Nuclear,’ he said matter-of-factly. He reached up and gripped the crash net fixed to the ceiling. ‘This is going to hurt, woman.’
Copley called out to the pilot, ‘Get us up and out of this bloody canyon. All the speed you can muster. Or the walls will channel the blast straight at us! That goes for all Stormravens!’
Reaper Two started bucking and shuddering. Gravity shifted violently as the pilot swung the craft up over the edge of the canyon and out into open desert, low to the ground. Reapers One and Three were only half a second behind.
But the wall of fire and dust was fast, expanding like a solar flare, hungry to swallow them. It was slowing as it came, spending its power as it expanded, but it still caught up with them easily and swept them into its rage.
The Stormravens were snatched from the air then swatted to the desert floor like bugs. Flying low as they were, they hit the sand at a shallow angle, carving long wakes as they slid to a halt in a ragged, uneven triangle. Those onboard were thrown against their restraints. Unsecured weapons slammed against the walls. Then silence.
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